


Meet Cute

by writer_roha



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff, mark is a music major uwu, this was supposed to be a drabble but oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15063194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_roha/pseuds/writer_roha
Summary: Running into a half-naked dude in the elevator still counts as a meet cute.





	Meet Cute

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for being absent for so long!! also yes it's my first nct work among my Sea of astro works...i just love mark a lot and might write for other dreamies in the future uwu 
> 
> hope u enjoy

It was college so your capacity to endure weird and random happenings was pretty high. But even this raised your brows. It was a tiring day. You just wanted to get back to your dorm and the walk from your morning lab was long enough. You had just about dozed off as your back hit the cold metal of the elevator when you heard a pounding of bare feet on tiled linoleum getting closer and closer until the slam of a shoulder against the elevator wall startled your eyes open.

"Just made it," the boy sighed in relief as the elevator doors slid shut. He clicked a button; one floor above your's.

Also, he was naked.

Well, almost naked, save for the orange-yellow plaid boxers he had around his hips and a thin-framed pair of glasses on his nose. This was weird, but your floor was in the double digits and you didn't want to make things weirder by asking.

You recognized him to be the student you had seen 3 or 4 times in the building. He looked tired almost all the time and his dusty blonde hair was almost always unkept. You really didn't pin him as the one night stand type though.

Your eyes were averted, but you heard him inhale sharply as he finally realized he wasn't the only one in the elevator as the adrenaline wound down. "This isn't as weird as you think it is," he said cautiously.

You turned your head to him and grinned a bit, "How weird do you think I think it is?" 

"Very," 

"Correct," you nodded, but didn't press for answers.

"I can explain," he preened, "I fell asleep at the recording studio across the street while I was practicing and my friends who had brought me food found me asleep and decided to take all my clothes since I'm a deep sleeper."

"Okay, that is funny," you snorted. Your floor was nearing, so you stood up straight, getting ready to leave. "I hope you get your clothes back," you said easily once the elevator door opened.

You forgot to get his name.

>>

You didn't see him until a week or so later. Not that you were counting. He was cute, but this was hardly the time.

It was in the laundry room, you had gone in the middle of the night; peak laundry hours as it was usually empty at this time. You were surprised when someone else was in fact there, with their back to you, clad in a black sweater and swaying and whistling to a lighthearted tune. 

"Hello," you said, mostly out of courtesy, as you stepped into the room. Better to say hello now than startle them later. It was quiet save for the whirring of the washing machine.

You weren't expecting a response back as he was absorbed in his own world, so you set to work loading your own clothes. "Oh, it's the girl from the elevator," came a chirpy voice.

You whipped your head at the familiar tone, "And you're clothed."

He moved his pile of clothes to the machine beside your's with a friendly smile. He was in his usual pair of glasses and messy hair. "I am," he grinned, looking at you, "I'm Mark. Mark Lee."

"Y/N," you offered your own name.

"Pretty," he muttered. "Look, I'm really sorry about the other day," he apologized, "If you ever have any favors you need taken care of, or someone you want me to beat up, I'll do it."

"No need, it's fine. Stuff happens," you assured.

"No, no, I don't want you to know me as the naked elevator guy," Mark shuffled through his pockets for a piece of paper and pulled out a crumpled up receipt, "Here, take my number, and if you ever need anything just text me."

"Mark, no-"

By now, he was finished his folding and had put everything into his basket. "Too late!" he waved as he walked away.

>>

You put the number into your phone just in case, but hadn't contacted him. You weren't planning on acting on that favor as it truly wasn't a big deal, but the number stayed warm in your pocket. After two weeks, Mark had still weighed on your mind a bit, but you thought maybe you had waited too long so it would be weird if you talked to him now. He had probably already forgotten about it. 

What could you say? He was cute- too cute. Sure, your circumstances of a proper meeting were somewhat tainted but that didn't make his goofy smile any less heartwarming. And gosh, those glasses. They were simple but you found that you liked him better with than without them. 

>>

It was nearing almost a month since Mark had handed you his number and you hadn't seen him in person since. It was a big campus, so it's not like you were expecting to. (But maybe you were wanting to). 

It was the beginning of a long weekend as a result of today's national holiday, so you were completely ready to kick back for a few days. Your friends had invited you for a small trip out of the city, but for once, you decided to decline, so they went merrily without you.

You had just gotten to your front door to realize that your keys weren't on you. Or in your bag. But your door was locked. Shit. You could vaguely recall that perhaps in the hullabaloo of the morning rush you had left your keys just inside on the counter, and the doors automatically locked when you closed them. Just your luck. Thankfully, you had the dorm administrator's number still in your phone from orientation day.

Straight to voicemail. The administrator's recorded voice said he'd be back late tomorrow. But of course, who works on a holiday.

So no keys, no one to give you keys, and no one to crash with for the night. Lucky.

You sat outside your dorm door helplessly, beginning to plot breaking into your own dorm when it hit you. Mark.

You really had no other options, so as you dialed his number, you prayed that he hadn't forgotten about his promise. 

"Hello?" came the soft voice you had secretly yearned to hear.

"It's Y/N," you breathed.

"Oh, took you long enough," you could hear his smile through the receiver, "You must be desparate then? Who am I kneecapping?" 

"Me," you sighed exasperatedly.

"Sounds hot," he said in a heartbeat, "What's the occasion?"

"Okay, were you serious about the favor thing, because I'm gonna be really embarrassed if you were just joking," you fretted.

"I was super serious," Mark reassured, "However I was joking about the kneecapping and I really hope you're not gonna ask me to kill someone."

"What I'm asking is worse," you confessed.

"Worse?" he deadpanned.

"I locked myself out of my dorm, and since it's the holiday, there's no one to let me in, and all my friends are out of town. Would I be able to crash with you for the night?" you pleaded.

"My goodness, that does sound worse," he said, sounding appalled, and your heart dropped into your stomach. "Just kidding, come on up I'm in 1378." 

Your ride up one whole floor was an anxious one. You barely knew Mark, and here you were, staying the night with him. But he said yes, and you were in a desparate situation, and as far as you could tell, he wasn't a murderer. Your knock was soft, but Mark was quick to open it anyway.

"Dude, took you long enough," Mark smiled as he let you in. His dorm layout was identical to your own, but the contents within it were vastly different. Just looking at the furniture, you could tell the guy lived, breathed, and bled music. In the center of the living room sat a piano that was covered in stray music scores and crumpled papers. From the doorway, you could see his room and the guitar on his bed, covered by more papers. 

"Music major?" you murmured quietly as you slid your shoes off.

"That obvious?" Mark led you into the living room and settled into his couch.

"Might as well have it tattoed on your forehead," 

"Just might take that action," he laughed.

You sat across from him and folded your legs under yourself nervously. "Seriously, thanks so much for taking me in, before I called you, I was considering breaking into my own place, and lord knows that would be a total disaster," you admitted, "You weren't busy were you?"

"It's all good, if you hadn't come, I'd probably just be watching zootopia alone," he waved your worries away, "Now that you're here I don't have to watch it alone."

"Mark, no." 

"Sorry," he backpedaled sheepishly, "I don't know what else to do, I don't have people over, and when I do, it's my friends and they already have their minds made up about what they wanna do before they even step foot in here." 

"Okay, fair," you conceded, eyes scanning the room for any way out of watching the film. "You've got monopoly," you pointed to the familiar looking box on the shelf.

"That was mostly to fill the space there, but I don't see why not," Mark got up from the couch and shuffled to get the game, "Hope we don't hate each other by the end of this." It took a minute or so to set the game up as both the rules and parameters were a bit fuzzy to the two of you. "I'll be shoe," he declared, placing the tiny metal piece on the starting point.

"Then I'll be hat," you nodded. 

The game was slow to start but as it progressed, the thin veil of awkwardness began to melt away with your laughter over the silly game and the property each of you had gained. When you had managed to buy out one of his lots, Mark was pretty devastated. And whenever he earned the slightest bit of the cartoonish currency, he was rolling over in triumph. He'd stare at you seriously when it was your turn to roll the dice as if somehow, it would make you roll something less favorable. Also, he had threatened to call 911 when you had gotten a get out of jail free card. Mark was fun.

The game was nearing its fruition after almost an hour, so Mark stood up to strech his legs a bit. "You hungry?" he asked, stretching his arms up over his head and groaning as his joints popped like the old man he was.

"Are you just suggesting food so we can stop playing because you're clearly going to lose?" you asked nonchalantly, spreading your legs out in front of you to stretch as well.

"That, and I could really use some pizza," Mark conceded easily, "I'll pay."

"What? No, I came and kicked down your door for the night, I can pay," you argued, standing up to assert your authority, despite still being a head shorter than the boy.

"No, my house, my money," he grabbed his monopoly money from under the board and waved the fake bills in your face.

"Stop! I'm paying," you stifled a laugh.

"We haven't even ordered," 

"I will pay, Mark," you glowered, poking his chest. 

"How about the monopoly winner pays," Mark suggested.

"Yeah, that's me," you pointed out.

"Okay you pay," Mark slumped, "This time." The thought that there was an implied next time brought a smile to your face and a pink to your cheeks.

You ordered pepperoni with mushrooms.

>>

"So what's your major?" Mark asked as the two of your were digesting your meal and watching animal planet.

"Undeclared," you sunk into the couch cushion. Driven types like Mark always made you discontented with yourself. People like him knew what they wanted and went for it head first and a big part of you wished that you had even a drop of that spirit running through your veins, but to no luck. 

"That's fine," Mark said brightly, noticing the fall in your demeanor, "You've got time." His words were earnest and well-meaning so you let yourself smile back at him. He meant the best. 

After the bout of stale air, Mark floundered until the two of you fell into easy conversation. He told you a bit about the man behind the glasses and the boxers from the elevator, and in turn you told him a bit about yourself while a quiet nature documentary played in the background. Mark played guitar and wrote his own music. He liked to swim and play sports. He liked the color green and he believed that sharks didn't deserve the bad rap that they got. He was an open book, and you were enjoying every piece of information that he supplied.

It was barely past midnight when Mark declared that it was Bed Time. "Rest is important, and the juiciest sleepover stories come out when the lights are off and we're supposed to be in bed," Mark gushed, as if telling some secret, when he was in fact just looking like a loser. "Take my bed," he offered, after clearing off all the papers.

"And you'll sleep where?" you asked.

"Futon," he flashed a grin, whipping open his closet to reveal the pink mass rolled up in the corner. 

Mark offered you a sleeping shirt, but skipped out on shorts as, "They're too big for you and I'm an adult that can handle seeing a pair of underwear." If it didn't matter to him that you were pantless, it didn't matter to you. 

After washing up, the two of you were tucked in your separate beds; you in his, and him on the floor beside the bed. The lights were off and the room was quiet for a few minutes before Mark spoke. "So who do you like?" he asked in his cheesy 13-year-old-from-camp voice.

"Secret," you played along, rolling over in bed to look down at him.

"If I say his name, you have to tell me," he joked.

"Oh my god, shut up," you giggled. He was right, this was the best part of the sleepover.

"Are you cold?" Mark asked after a moment, his voice back to normal.

"No," you shook your head in the dark.

"You look cold, lemme grab you a blanket," he persisted, switching on the lamp and grabbing his glasses from the side table before walking out in the hallway and returning with a huge quilt. With much care, he wordlessly spread the blanket over you and patted you kindly, then laid back down and switched the light off.

"Thanks, I guess," you said quietly. It was cozy. 

By the sound of soft snoring below you, you could tell Mark had fallen asleep shortly after giving you your extra blanket. So much for late night gossip, you thought to yourself. You weren't quite yet drowsy, so you let your mind wander. At first you thought about school. Mark was a hardworking soul and a bit inspiring, although you'd never tell him that. You thought of what to pursue; you couldn't stay undeclared forever. But school was tough enough as is, even without a narrow study. 

Then, you thought of Mark. You had met him all of three times, so you strongly discouraged yourself from feeling a certain way for this boy, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Before your official meeting in the elevator, you knew of him. You had seen him quite a few times in the hallways of the dorm building and around campus, though each of your sightings of the enticing boy went unnoticed by him. Back before you knew him, you had thought he was cute, but not in the way that you were hellbent on pursuing him. He was just a passing face that was attractive. But now he was more than a passing face, and you liked him even more than you could wished to admit. Each part of himself that uncovered itself made him even more likeable.

His stoic face in the halls gave no indication of the sweet interior that lay beneath the surface. Before you had met, you didn't know that he smiled like that. Or that he was blind as a bat and looked adorable when squinting without his classes. His calm outside demeanor had not betrayed that he watched Zootopia alone sometimes and that he cared if his guests were cold at night or not. Your tiny two-dimensional crush had become that much more tangible with just three encounters. What would a fourth do? 

You couldn't be in love, right? Not this quickly anyway. But it wouldn't hurt to find out what it was like to kiss him.

>>

When you awoke, the sun was risen, and Mark was still asleep on the futon, and his hair was even more messy than usual. You let yourself lay in bed for a bit, but eventually had to get up to pee. You tried your best to be quiet, but by the time you came tip-toeing back to the room, Mark was already upright, but still looking tired.

"Good morning," you said gingerly. Your late night musings over Mark had left you a little nervous around him. It felt as if you were keeping some secret from him. 

"Morning," he mumbled, eyes still closed. He ran a hand through his messy hair, but it did nothing to calm it. "Why are you up so early?"

"Pee," you said curtly, "Also it's 10am."

"Yeah, early," Mark squinted at you, "I'm gonna go to sleep again."

"Okay, me too," you nodded quietly, and crawled back into the warm bed. Was it bad that your heart was racing over a 10 second interaction?

>>

"Get up, I'm bored," was what you heard that pulled you out of your slumber. Mark. Groggily, you sat up and cleared your hair from your face. The bedside clock told you that it was noon. You turned to face Mark to see that he was still in his sleeping clothes, but he was looking a lot more awake, and he had combed his hair and put on his glasses. 

"What?" you muttered.

"I'm bored and it's noon and I'll feel bad if I eat breakfast without you and I'm hungry," Mark replied quickly, bouncing on his toes beside you.

It took a few minutes for you to push yourself out of bed, but eventually you got up and followed Mark to the kitchen after washing up. "Baked these myself," Mark said over his shoulder as he pulled some eggo waffles out of a cardboard box and put them into the toaster.

"A musician and a baker? My, oh my," you faked astonishment as you sat yourself down at a stool at the counter across from him. After a good night's sleep, you could tell that Mark was buzzing with energy. Once the toaster popped, the bespectacled boy plated two for you and two for himself, then slid your's over to you. "So, the admin dude comes later tonight, so is it cool if I hang out for a few more hours? I promise I won't bother you if you've got stuff to do," you asked.

"Yeah, sounds cool," he shrugged, completely drowning his waffles in syrup, "I've got nothing to do today, so by all means, bother me."

"Thanks again, seriously," you looked at him sincerely while spreading nutella over your own waffles. 

"No problem," he shrugged, "Thanks for not filing a restraining order after seeing my naked bony ass."

"No problem," you grinned. 

Brunch carried on slowly but comfortably. Mark was a cute eater. You didn't know how that was possible, but it apparently was. The way his glasses would fog up when he drank from his mug of hot chocolate put a smile on your lips. You found yourself finishing after him, as for the majority of the meal, your mind was caught up in him. Silly, but true. 

"So what do you wanna do?" Mark asked after the two of you finished cleaning up; you had insisted that you at least do the dishes.

"Dunno," you shrugged.

"Zootopia it is then," a slow grin spread over the boy's face.

"No," you glared.

"Then what?"

"Play for me," you breathed. Before the words came out of your mouth, you truly were unsure as to what to do, but now you were glad you had blurted it.

"Guitar?" he tilted his head, a soft pink tinging his cheeks and neck.

"Yes, I wanna hear," you smiled. 

"Okay," he gave in sheepishly, getting up to fetch his guitar, "I'm not that good though, so don't laugh."

"I doubt that," you rolled your eyes, "But I won't."

Mark was amazing. You sat patiently on the couch as he sat himself across from you and folded his legs in front of himself. He took a few seconds to make sure it was properly tuned, then he strummed a few warm-up chords. When he started, you realized that you didn't recognize the melody; perhaps it was his own. Mark's fingers worked skillfully over the frets and his other hand danced on strings as he played each note and all you could do was stare in awe. The melody reminded you of sweetgrass blowing in a summer breeze and the comfort of a warm blanket on a lonely night. 

When he finished, he looked up at you, and the glazed concentration behind his frames fell away as nervousness set in. He was back to being just Mark. "You're beautiful," you breathed in wonder.

"You mean the piece?" Mark laughed quietly.

"Both," you blurted. As the words left your lips, you quickly slapped a hand over your mouth, realizing what you had said. You didn't mean to say that, but it was too late. You were too entranced to think clearly.

"Oh," Mark blinked, setting his guitar aside, "Is it weird that I've like, had an urge to kiss you since I met you?"

"What?" your eyes widened in surprise.

"You're right, it is weird. Forget I said that," he said in embarrassment, getting up to leave the room, wishing the rug would swallow him up forever.

"Wait," you touched his hand, "It's not weird." You were afraid to say anything else to push forward. 

"So can I?" he sat back down, eyes glued to his lap. It felt like you were back in 7th grade at some dumb co-ed party about to experience your first kiss. 

Now or never, you thought as you closed the gap between the two of you and kissed him chastely. His lips were a bit chapped and tasted like syrup. Mark's hand cradled your chin as he pulled you closer. The kiss lasted little more than a few seconds, and as you pulled away you wished that you could have lived in those few seconds forever. 

"Do you wanna go out with me?" Mark asked gingerly, fiddling with his fingers, "I know we've met like three times or whatever, but I can't help but feel something. You have no idea how agonizing that month was waiting for you to call me." 

Mark was bright red, and his nervousness flooded you with relief; you weren't alone in your feelings. "Yes, I'd love to go out with you, naked elevator guy," you smiled. 

"I'll forget that you said that only because you're my girlfriend now and I'm bound by law to take all the shit you throw at me," Mark muttered before leaning in to press another kiss to your lips.

You ended up watching Zootopia anyway out of sheer boredom, but it was okay since Mark's fingers were knitted in your own and chest was warm as it pressed against your back.

**Author's Note:**

> tell me what you thought ♡♡


End file.
